Finishing Dickens

The Mystery of Edwin Drood

Roundabout Theatre Company,

Studio 54

Through Feb. 10

New York

If Charles Dickens had lived to finish "The Mystery of Edwin Drood," it might have ended up becoming one of his best-remembered books, though not so much for its literary quality as its subject matter. Imagine, if you dare, a novel about an outwardly respectable choirmaster who is secretly addicted to opium and who strangles his nephew in a fit of passion (or does he?) because they're both in love with the same woman. Who could resist a yarn like that? It's got everything but serial murder. Alas, Dickens died of a stroke in 1870 before he could pen the final chapters, and the unfinished manuscript became a half-forgotten curiosity known only to Dickens buffs and scholars of Victorian literature—until Rupert Holmes came along.

Mr. Holmes, a multitalented singer-songwriter who topped the pop charts in 1979 with "Escape (The Piña Colada Song)," had the uncommonly clever idea to turn "Drood" into a Broadway musical in which the audience is invited to vote on the ending. Is Edwin Drood really dead? If so, did John Jasper, the mad choirmaster, kill him—or was he murdered by one of the other characters? As gimmicks go, that's a pretty slick one, and though Mr. Holmes had never previously written anything for the stage, "The Mystery of Edwin Drood" ran for 608 performances. Now the Roundabout Theatre Company has brought "Drood" back to Broadway in a revival directed with rip-roaring éclat by Scott Ellis, and I'll be surprised if it doesn't run at least as long as the original 1985 production. For sheer fun, this show is hard to top.

Part of what makes Mr. Holmes's adaptation of "Drood" so enjoyable is that he's turned Dickens's high-Gothic novel into a show-within-a-show, an old-fashioned dirty-work-at-the-crossroads melodrama that is supposedly being performed in 1895 at London's Music Hall Royale. The plot is played for laughs, not chills, with plenty of nudge-nudge-wink-wink asides from the master of ceremonies ( Jim Norton). In order to liven things up still further, Drood is played by a woman in drag ( Stephanie J. Block) and the audience is made privy to the backstage rivalries of the members of the cast. Corny? Sure—but that's the point. Mr. Holmes spoofs the hoary clichés of the genre with purest affection, and the actors respond accordingly, waggling their eyebrows and twirling their mustaches as though the train (and yes, there's a train) were headed straight for the nearest young damsel in distress.

Mr. Ellis keeps his actors on the gallop, and they give every sign of having the time of their lives, especially the plummy-voiced Mr. Norton, who never met an "r" he didn't rrrrroll. No less amusing is Chita Rivera, the proprietress of the opium den in which Jasper (Will Chase) takes his discreet leisure. Ms. Rivera delivers her lines in an accent that is an indescribably complicated and preposterous mixture of mock-Cockney and . . . well, something else. While the singular talents of Jessie Mueller, one of the most gifted young singers to hit Broadway in the past decade, are largely wasted on the supporting role of Helena Landless, an exotic babe from Ceylon, it's still a pleasure to see and hear her in any capacity whatsoever.

"Drood" is, of course, a famously extreme rarity, a hit musical whose book, music and lyrics were all written by the same person. (Mr. Holmes even did the orchestrations.) Most of the songs, to be sure, are more functional than individual, and it would have been nice had Mr. Holmes attempted to infuse his contemporary-sounding score with the piquant period flavor that is omnipresent in the script. That said, all of the numbers in "Drood" do exactly what they need to do, especially "Perfect Strangers," a lovely little pop duet that ought to be much better known.

The key to enjoying "The Mystery of Edwin Drood" is to take the wise advice that Mr. Norton proffers in the first scene: "Let's all be as vulgar and uncivilized as is legally possible! Kick off your boots, loosen your corsets . . . and enjoy yourselves!" No, it's not a masterpiece, but when it's mounted with sufficient gusto, "Drood" is infallibly effective, and Mr. Ellis and his colleagues have poured on the zest. Anna Louizos's fantastically elaborate sets are perfect—the onstage train actually got applause on the night I saw the show—and William Ivey Long's costumes are as luscious-looking as you could possibly desire.

A word to the wise: The killer gets to sing an extra song in the last scene, so vote for Ms. Mueller!

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